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I grind my teeth. So, apparently, Luca is just as sexist as any of my teammates. I didn’t peg him for that, but I’m taking copious mental notes now.
Wyatt snorts and claps Luca on the shoulder. “Get ’em saddled up.” He takes his three. Emma waves to her group, and the rest of us join Luca.
“All right, here’s the deal. We’ve got five full days before we reach the Gilbert Trading Post with the cattle. We could do it in three, but because this is a corporate retreat, we break it up with some team-building activities.” He looks at me and snorts.
I inhale sharply, covering my chest with one hand. “I’m not sure what you mean by that, but I’ll have you know that I’m excellent with team building. I’m the one who organized this trip, so I know what I’m in for.” What I don’t say is . . . at least I hope I do.
He leans one arm onto the sable-colored horse’s saddle and crosses one foot over the other. My eyes trail down his long legs, over the jeans hugging muscular thighs and calves, and to the dusty boots he wears.
After a short stare-off, he says, “Is that so?” and gives me the same once-over, and my body flushes with heat where his eyes roam.
Ignore it, I tell myself and answer, “It is.” I nod once as if to put a period on the statement.
“Then perhaps you can show us how to mount up with Jasper here.” Luca steps to the side, holding out one hand for me—be my guest style.
Luca
I was planning to rideJasper myself, but Jack has been acting so arrogant since her arrival, I pulled an audible and assigned him to her. Jasper is one of our taller horses, and I smirk as Jack puts her left foot in the strap and tries to throw her right leg over. She falls short and comes crashing down. It’s her second time in the dirt this morning, and I can’t help how ironic I find her entire situation.
I cover my mouth with one hand, trying desperately to hide the laugh threatening to bellow from my lips. “Did you tighten the saddle? It looks a little loose.”
Jack stands up, brushes the grass off of her jeans, and looks up at me. “I assumed you had taken care of the saddle before I risked my life trying to get on the horse.”
She stands with her hands planted on her hips, clearly as annoyed with me as I am with her. Although, unlike me, she doesn’t seem to find any humor in the situation, which makes me want to laugh even more. I concede and help her off the ground. This time, she accepts my help, following my lead as I approach Jasper.
“I put the saddle on, but before you hop on, always make sure the saddle is tight. Here, like this.” I pull to tighten the strap against Jasper’s side.
This gorgeous gelding stands patiently waiting for us to get this right, and I whisper a little praise in his ear as I finish up. I drop the strap and let Jack take it. She’s so short her head barely reaches the horse’s back.
“Do you want to try again?” I ask her.
Jack bites her lip, looks up at Jasper, down to the ground, and then at me. She looks scared, and I feel like a jerk because I’m not making this any easier. But when she acts like a know it all, I can’t help myself. Perhaps it’s the constant sports I played during high school or the debate team I was part of in college, but my competitive side claws its way to the surface where she’s concerned. I want to show her that she’s not as great as she thinks she is. But when she shows any hint of vulnerability, I find myself wanting to run and rescue her.
This is all extremely confusing.
“Here,” I point to the foot strap and step up behind her. “Let me help you.”
She hesitates but then puts her foot in the strap and stretches up to grab the horn of the saddle.
I settle my hands at her waist, ready to give her a little help in launching from the ground, and her head whips around to look up at me. I fight a confused reaction: back off or hold on tighter? Breathing deeply, I look up toward the saddle and try to focus on the task rather than how her midsection feels between my palms. “Now,” I say. “Put all of your strength in swinging your leg over. I’ll give you an extra push.”
Jack nods and then pushes her weight into the stirrup. As she swings her leg over, I instinctively give her a push on her rear end with my hand to make sure she clears Jasper. Her leg flies over the horse, and I jerk my hand back, regretting it.
“Uh, I’m s—sorry about that.”
She brushes me off with a wave. “It’s fine. I’m on the horse. Isn’t that right, Jasper?” Looking a little too self-satisfied, Jack pats Jasper on the neck.
What’s surprising to me is how he leans into her touch, not at all bothered that someone other than me is riding him for the first time in a while.
Calvin and Eddie are already on their horses, chatting away and smiling. Calvin is telling Eddie about his twin eight-year-old daughters and how they’ve just gotten into competitive dancing. “At this rate,” he says, “I won’t have the money to send them to college.”
Eddie gives him a cheerleading-type reply, “You’re young and have a fab job. You and Darla will get there soon enough. By the time they’re eighteen, I’m sureyou’ll be walkin’ in high cotton.”
I swallow a laugh at hearing Eddie’s thesaurus of southern phrases put to good use. I have a feeling he and Calvin will be the low maintenance members of my group. I finish strapping the bags to our horses. Once everyone is on their horses, I hop on Lucy, my mare, and we start down the path.
By the time we start on the trail toward Gilbert Trading Post, the sun is high in the sky. I grab my hat from the satchel on the side of the horse and pull it low on my head. Wyatt’s group leads the charge, followed by Emma and her three, and my group brings up the rear. Calvin acts like he knows what he’s doing, and Eddie rides directly behind him, followed by Jack, who looks nervous but seems to hold her own. I ride directly behind her.
For not being experienced, Jack’s riding posture isn’t half bad. She bears her weight in the stirrups when Jasper speeds to a canter as if she’s been in a saddle before. I can hear her talking to him too, but she’s speaking too quietly for me to make out what she’s saying.
